The Real Story of Napoleon Bonaparte: 1000 True Story
by frenchllamas
Summary: Your history teacher was wrong. Napoleon is not the gracious man you once thought he was. I don't apologize.


The Real Story of Napoleon Bonaparte: Fan (non)fiction

1000% true story

Hours of running around left Napoleon's legs aching and he wished for rest. Sunset has already passed and it was evident that the sun would not be back until the morning.

The door to the room opened slowly, creaking as it did so. The first thing that caught Napoleon's eye was the homely chair conveniently placed in the far corner of the room, far away from possible peasant interaction. This chair is special. It has reveled in the warmth radiating from Napoleon's body since he was born. It followed him everywhere he went. His mother insisted that that he bring it with him anywhere he went so that he never forgot about his family. Little did they know, this chair possessed human-like traits.

The eerie quietness enveloped the room with tranquility. Suddenly the softest of voices arose from the corner of the room. It was the chair that insisted on breaking the silence. The seemingly inanimate object's voice arose.

"Napoleon! It would be an honor if you rested your bum upon me. The night is young!"

Napoleon obliged. He hastily walked over to the chair, slowly lowered himself into it, and let out an audible sigh.

"Oh, chair. How many years have I spent with you? Forty-three? It's exhausting to think of all the time we spent together. Forty-three years and you still are not satisfied with the amount of time that I rest my bum upon you. This is starting to become slightly creepy."

A long night awaited this Napoleon fellow. His rather small mind was inhabited by rather large ideas. The decision to invade Russia was nobody's but his own. 600,000 soldiers and nothing shall stand in his way. He knew that a long night of proper rest would fully prepare him for this endeavor, but the endless stream of thoughts running through his head prevented him from slumber.

He jumped out of his chair and exclaimed:

"When the sun arises and casts its light upon my flawless face, I shall embark on a brand new journey no other man has ever dared to endure!"

Somewhere outside the open window, a voice was heard:

"Does this journey include ordering pizza?!"

The voice sounded oddly familiar. That raucous, deep voice that could only belong to one person that Napoleon has encountered in his lifetime. It sounded like…somebody from military camp…

"FRANCIS!" Napoleon ran to the window. "Francis! Is that you? I knew we'd find each other once again despite our parting of ways as young boys. If you reveal yourself, I promise to appoint you as the ruler of the next country that my forces shall invade! …Francis?"

The voice did not respond. Tumbleweed rolled across the palace lawn. The wind picked up and leaves continued to fall from the innumerable trees in the near distance. Winter was near.

"Ahem," said the chair. "I sense that there is some kind of affair going on between you and this fellow named _Francis._"

"Shut it chair," said Napoleon, agitated. "I'm already having an affair with all of Europe."

Francis and Napoleon have not seen each other face to face since military camp when they were both young lads. Most people didn't understand his motives when he legalized homosexuality all throughout Europe. He and Francis were more than just mere acquaintances.

Napoleon was hoping that their paths would once again cross.

As soon as the sun started to rise, Napoleon woke up. You could hear birds chirping, mockingbirds singing their melodies, and the town's hobo snoring behind the oak tree. Following the daily ritual, Napoleon threw a minuscule bread crumb at him.

That'll keep him until tomorrow. The weird thing about that hobo is that he never spoke. Napoleon never got a good look at him and kept him a secret because he didn't want people to know that he actually had a heart. He began to wonder who he actually was.

There was no time to waste lingering. He got right to action. All the necessary soldiers were to assemble in less than an hour. There's a country to invade.

Days passed. People died left and right. Literally. One person dropped dead to the left of Napoleon and then the next one dropped dead to the right of Napoleon. It was slightly odd.

Dat Russian winter. Shiz cold.

Everything was burned to the ground. No Russians in sight. You'd think that they burned themselves in the process.

Napoleon gave up everything on the spot. The forces were ordered to retreat and return to France. More soldiers died on the way back. In order to prevent hypothermia every so often the troops stopped to do jumping jacks and squats.

Upon returning to France, the crowds noticed how many people were missing. As people were taking out their pitchforks, Napoleon exclaimed "DON'T HURT ME I ABDICATE" and ran away.

He was quickly caught and exiled to the (not so) far away island of Elba. Napoleon remained quiet and took complete blame for his foolish actions.

The trip to Elba was long and cold. The inclement weather wouldn't let him forget about his wrongdoings. The others on the ship refused to talk to him leaving him to his own thoughts.

Day 1: Final goodbyes and handshakes are exchanged. The day is spent examining the land. In a matter of days, Napoleon has lost everything. His reputation of ruler in France has been tarnished. He brought shame upon his country. The loss of his respected position is certainly tragic, but the enormity of the situation didn't hit him until the next day…

Day 2: It is realized that the chair has been left at the palace. Cue initial sigh of relief. Only to later find out that there is nothing clean to sit on and nothing to warm his bum with.

Day 3: Napoleon has assumed fetal position. The end is near. There is no life without pizza delivery and supposed sightings of Francis.

Day 36: Thirty-four continuous days of wild dreams and hallucinations. The cure has finally been found for this supernatural phenomenon known as dehydration. _Water. _Napoleon makes his way over to the coastline and drinks the equivalent of 2.25 cups of water from the ocean. Ocean? _Salt _water?

Day 37: After a day of contemplating drinking his own urine, Napoleon stumbles upon a freshwater pond. "At last! Protein from amoeba and clean water! I shall survive and once again return to France!"

Day 38: Napoleon is finally able to recollect his thoughts and the content of his dreams. He has been dreaming exclusively of his beloved chair and Francis. Also that hobo who sleeps behind the oak tree. He has the strangest feeling that his name is Jean.

Day 56: He yearns for his lover, Francis. Vivid memories of military camp shenanigans have resurfaced. Where could he possibly be? Still in France? Near the palace? He must be found. "If I once again find Francis, we will resume taking over the entirety of Europe together!"

Day 62: Napoleon has managed to map out his plan in the sand with a stick. He also built a canoe composed solely of cardboard.

Plan:

-Build a canoe.

-Ride canoe to Italy without getting eaten by a sea monster.

-Find a horse and ride it to France.

-Take over the country I have once ruled

-Find Francis

Day 75: "Today I shall embark on a new adventure that will not fail!" loljk procrastination ensued

Day 76: "I AM COMING FOR YOU FRANCE!" Napoleon walked around the island, picked up a bucketful of suspicious looking blueberries and began his journey. He kept detailed notes of his excursion.

-Almost died from that huge wave. Thought I saw a sea monster. Turned out to be my great grandfather.

-Forgot water. Don' .Urine.

-Thought I saw land. Nope.

-LAND HO! Can't find a horse. Is riding humans legal in Italy?

-Nobody recognizes me. What a shame. Found a horse!

-Horse demands apple. I don't have apples. Onto the next horse.

-Many treacherous and burdensome days later, the palace is in sight.

"I have arrived! Countless days of pondering have filled my brain with new, better plans for this country! Trust me!"

"That's it, Napoleon. It's your last chance. Battle of Waterloo. Go" said an unidentified voice.

The time spent at Elba has made Napoleon weak. He strayed from his exercise regimen. Gained weight was noticeable and he no longer possessed the strong voice that is needed to rule a country.

Days leading up to the battle were spent searching for Francis instead of preparing. No luck. Time spent was time wasted. The only joy that came from returning back to France was seeing his chair. The chair showed signs of depression. Chair aged significantly. Several elaborate crease lines were conspicuous on said chair.

"Why'd you leave me here? Where have you been? Did you not miss me?" the chair questioned.

"Help me find Francis and all will be well in the world. HALP ME CHAIR," Napoleon demanded.

Chairs can't help find people. All stories don't have a happy ending. Initiate heartbreak for Napoleon. The upcoming battle didn't have desirable results. Napoleon failed his one and only test. One job he couldn't complete. More shame.

This time, harsher action has been taken. Napoleon will be put into a box and shipped off to St. Helens. Far away as to prevent a comeback.

Nobody says goodbye. All they did as he departed is yell "Good riddance!" Beautiful commentary from the country that once praised him, no? Napoleon knew what awaited him. Befriending untamed animals and eating sketchy fruit that supposedly caused diarrhea. Certainly not a future that is worth looking forward to.

The arrival was uneventful. There wasn't a single soul in sight. No farewells were exchanged this time. The only item that Napoleon was allowed to bring to the island was his chair. Yes, the chair that he has had for fifty-two years. It holds extreme sentimental value. He vowed never to let that chair out of his sight again considering it's the only thing that stood by him at all times.

Days later, the hallucinations started up again.

In agony, Napoleon lifted the chair and threw it into the ocean. A feeling of relief washed over him. Without the chair to sit on, he seated himself on the ground watching as the waves pushed it around, eventually sinking.

A caricature of a person was seen in a canoe less than a mile away. It was identified as Francis. Little did Napoleon know…

It was a hallucination. He jumped into the water and managed to get a couple meters away from land. The frigid water stimulated his senses and he came back to reality. There was nobody in a canoe. He didn't know how to swim. There was nobody to save him and he lost his treasured chair.

Napoleon yelled "There is no life without Francis worth living!" and then drowned and gradually sank to the bottom of the ocean floor.

A faint voice reminiscent of current Taylor Swift lyrics was heard from underwater:

"we are nevr evur evur evur evur evur getting back 2gether"


End file.
